A Funny Thing about Sickness
by RawrImmaEatinTurtleSoup
Summary: One-shot dealing with the pairing of America and England. When Alfred comes home sick he only wants one person to take care of him, but this time is different, there's a confession that changes both of them forever.


Alfred practically fell through the front door, moaning from the ache in his body. He threw his bag, hoping the hook would simply reach out and grab the strap, but the messenger bag feel heavily to the floor, its contents spilling across the wooden floor. A loud noise flew from his mouth that sounded a lot like a dying whale, a mournful cry that echoed among the vast expanses of the American's home.

"Ugh," He sniffled; running a hand across his forehead, sweat beading there from his fever. He threw a disgusted gesture at the bag, saving its collection for later as he shuffled for his couch.

The fabric raced to meet his body as he flopped across the overstuffed cushions. The deep blue of the furniture practically swallowed him, just the way he loved it, the ocean overtaking him in an array of comfort.

Alfred's hand reached out for the coffee table, nestled next to the armrest. His hand reaching widely for the small device that would answer his question of just how severe this illness of his was. His fingers finally brushed the plastic, gripping the device tightly; he threw the plastic cover across the room before popping it into his mouth.

The American waited for the thermometer to work, willing time to bend for him and go faster. He managed to fall asleep in that amount of time, curled into his jacket, deep breathing calmly through his nose until the shriek of the thermometer woke him.

"101.6…." Alfred rolled his eyes, chucking the thermometer away in the same direction as the cover. He pulled out his cell phone, peeling off his jacket from the sudden hot flash. He dialed the familiar number, loosening his tie as he did so.

"What do you want?" A tired English accented voice flowed through the phone, someone sounded like they had been having a bad day.

"Come take care of me," Alfred whined, lips curling into a pout as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"Why would you- you're sick again, aren't you?" A sigh could be heard from phone. Alfred could almost picture him shaking his head, his muted green eyes softening. Alfred knew that resistance was futile.

"Yes, I'm waiting." Alfred ended the call, tossing the phone onto the floor. He threw the crisp white shirt onto the floor as well, along with his tie before collapsing back onto the couch and falling asleep within seconds.

A brisk knock at the door dragged him from his sleep, "It's unlocked!" Alfred yelled, covering his eyes to block out the light from the windows.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, opening the door carefully, as if dangers lurked fruitfully from the other side of the entrance. "That's not safe, you git." He sighed, pulling the coat from his shoulders to place on one of the many hooks. He frowned when he noticed the bag on the floor, "Alfred, you need to stop leaving your things around like this."

"Sorry, mom." He groaned, shifting his position on the couch as a cold chill ran through his body. Immediately, goose bumps ran across his skin, his body began shaking. Shaking hands grabbed the previously removed clothing, pulling his shirt back over his head, slipping on his jacket and using the tie as a scarf. He even grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch.

Arthur tilted his head, "Alfred, are you really felling that-" He sighed, walking to the living room to see the American wrapped around in blankets and clothing. "Sick…." He shook his head, blond hair bouncing with the movement.

"I told you." The American whined, pulling the garments closer to his body.

"Right," Arthur closed the space between them quickly, pressing a hand to his forehead, but not feeling much. Another thought crossed his mind, causing his cheeks to dust a pale pink. The Englishman pressed his lips to Alfred's forehead, feeling the heat pulse through the skin. He cleared his throat as he pulled back, "I would say you are sick," He stated awkwardly.

"I-I told you." Alfred bit his lip, trying to hide the stutter, telling himself it was just the chill in his bones.

Arthur stood to full height, looking around the room. He rubbed his cheek, trying to quell the blush. "Do you have any cold medicine, soup?" He asked a little too quickly. "You know," He made a few gestures. "Sick things."

Alfred nodded, "I have soup and medicine." Instead of revealing their location he took Arthur's hand. "Don't go find them though. Don't…don't leave me alone, just stay with me." He gently pulled Arthur down onto the couch, wrapping the blanket around both of them.

Heat rushed through Arthur's cheeks, heat seemingly radiating from them. He settled easily in with Alfred. "Alright, if you…really don't want me to do anything." The Englishman ran his fingers through Alfred's hair, more heat rushing to his embarrassment.

Alfred yawned, exhaustion threatening to pull him back down into the depths of unconsciousness. "…Arthur…." The name was gentle on his tongue, a fragile word that could needed care when said. The American was sleep by the end of the word.

Arthur smiled faintly, a reaction that very few people had ever seen. He continued to play with the sleeping man's hair. His heart ached for this kind of closeness, wishing with everything he possessed that he could do this more often then when Alfred happened to be sick.

* * *

A few hours later, Alfred yawned, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes along with his fever. Blue stared hazily around the room, trying to focus in on what he was doing and why he was here. Finally, he glanced over at the Englishman he was cuddled into. "What's up, buttercup?" He slurred, still willing himself to wake.

Arthur found his smile returning, never once having fallen asleep being lost in his thoughts. "Good morning."

Alfred shook his head, much like a dog after being doused in water. "I feel better," The American announced, looking down at his blanket before meeting Arthur's eyes. Slowly, the intelligence returned into the blue, a smile displayed happily across his face. "You stayed with me. I must have slept for a long time."

"Of course I did," Arthur smiled; it was the first time Alfred had ever seen it. Alfred's heart sped in his chest, the glint in the green caused his heart to hammer against his rib cage. Arthur even ruffled Alfred's hair, the first time he had done so since the other was little. "Are you really feeling better already? Hmmm, maybe it was a twenty-four hour flu? Oh, or maybe it was the fact that you don't get enough sleep at night. I always told you that those video games were bad for you."

Alfred chuckled, the soft melody drifting through the room. "Yeah," He pulled the other closer, arms tightening around Arthur. "I'm really glad you didn't leave. Thank you."

"Why would I leave?" Arthur questioned, hugging the other back, ever so slightly with his pulse speeding up, he could feel it in his neck.

"Wasn't it boring?" The American questioned, tilting his head slightly. "Just watching me sleep and knowing I was sick?"

"Not really." Arthur blushed, a deeper pink flooding to his cheeks. "You talk in your sleep."

"I do?" Alfred's eyes widened as he wracked his brain for the recollection of dreams. "What did I say?"

Arthur ended up finding his panic humorous, chuckling as a result. "Oh, plenty of things, I can assure you that."

Alfred relaxed some as well, playing along with Arthur's game. "What was the funniest thing I said?"

"Something about being attacked by a sandwich." The Englishman laughed, a golden sound to Alfred.

Alfred laughed along with him, a sparkle flashing across his eyes as his thoughts drift and his eyes lower to the lips of the other.

Arthur had noticed where his eyes wandered. In response, Arthur bit his lip; mind running with the possibility of what he could be thinking.

Alfred leaned in close, pressing his forehead, now normal temperature, to Arthur's. A sudden boost confidence flitted through his veins, the urge to take a chance. The possibilities of the reaction would be endless, but he had to know.

Ever so slowly, the American captured the lips of the Englishman. For a moment there was only surprise that passed through their kiss, Arthur even releasing a small squeak of surprise, but when Alfred never pulled back and kissed him again Arthur was already melting.

Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck, not knowing what else to do with them. Alfred pulled the other closer, a noise of contentment slipping past the barrier of his throat. The American deepened the kiss, pulling Arthur so close that the two were flush together, their chests practically touching.

In that moment, as cliché as everyone makes it, everything disappeared with that kiss. The love of two people had been found, only passion behind what could only be explained as love. The kiss continued easily, tongues slipping past the entrance of lips, seeking out any way to make the other never want the moment to end.

They had to breathe, no longer how badly they wanted to prolong the inevitable. A smile played across Alfred's lips, "You don't know how long I have wanted to do that."

Arthur chuckled, catching his breath for a minute before responding, "You're not the only one."

Emotion shone in the American's eyes, "Arthur, I can't take it anymore. I love you. I have loved you more than I could ever admit to anyone, well, except for right now."

Arthur beamed, pulling Alfred into a short kiss, "Alfred, I love you too. I just never thought…."

"I would love you back?"

"Yes."

"That I would kiss you?"

"Yes."

"That I could possibly have a dangerous disease that would lure you over here and lead to my love confession?"

"Ye- No." Arthur laughed, amusement shining in his eyes.

"Good, then we can continue." Alfred smiled, connecting his lips once more with Arthur's.

* * *

**Author's note: I wrote this one-shot to prove that I am still here! I just have been swamped this year, so far, with tons of work and not a single study hall. I may post a few more one-shots before updating my other two because I have lost my Muse. I need to focus back into their mindsets and right now, with the end of marching band nearing it doesn't seem possible. Bear with me, alright? Review and be a wonderful person?**


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